Category: Nature

It had been a while since we took a John Bryant trip.  I had taken Joe fishing there last year as part of another forced manly right of passage, with limited results.  But much of the good fishing always lay on the far side of the river, and the bridge which crossed it had collapsed some 10 years ago, before Alana had even been born.  As evidence, I just so happen to have an old photo of a successful catch, former bridge in background:

I recall the bridge being high and rickedy.  It was unsettling to cross and I wasn’t surprised when it collapsed.  But every time I fished there after, I checked the bridge status, and every time, it was simply chained off.

Then, Dad visited for the 4th of July weekend, and as per tradition we went to the river.  And surprisingly, a sign on the trail announced the new bridge!  Good fishing would be open again at long last!

Anyway, here’s some fish!:

A lot of bluegills and rock bass.  All that sweating wasn’t for naught.

–Simon

More hunting success!  See my mighty warrior battle cry pose:

Alas, still no squirrel for Joe.  Though at least he got to feel like a badass riding shotgun:

Maybe next time.

–Simon

 

Last year, hunting was a failure…if you judge success by quantity of vanquished quarry, that is.  Flesh is only one of the reasons to go hunting, granted, but the other reasons are mere condolences one gives himself upon the lack of dinner, when no flesh hath been gotten.  But not this year!  This year, we eat!

Following last year’s events, I let the season sneak up on me, until Joe, unexpectedly, called me on a promise/threat that I would take him hunting.  And not one to dishonor a prior arrangement, I agreed.  We would hunt flesh this year after all–Joe for the first time.

I prepared.

• Mucks
• Mora
• Wigwams
• 7/2 Federals
• First Aid
• Tourniquets

The first aid kit and tourniquets were new acquisitions.  After last year, when the woods were awash with 20-somthings sporting camo-skinned shotguns, I considered that I might need something to treat trauma.  Fortunately, that turned out to be a mere precaution.

And so, properly geared up, we were off to that little plot of woods in which I’ve only ever been successful hunting squirrel on public land: Clark Lake.  I cast a judgmental eye upon Joe’s loadout: a tactical 12 ga. and an army bag packed with who knows what.  But points for enthusiasm, as evidenced by this photo:

Two squirrels, in the end.  Joe did make an effective spotter despite his lack of experience with the sport–his eyes must be better than mine.  And while he was slow with the draw, he did clean one.

And to maximize the manliness factor, we cooked then in a dutch oven in an open fire while getting some target practice in with the longbow.

It was a good day.

–Simon